


Disintegration

by tylerrjoseph



Category: My Chemical Romance
Genre: M/M, Mild Gore, Vampires, also?? how is this my first frerard??, idk probs sex stuff later in fic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-13
Updated: 2017-02-13
Packaged: 2018-09-24 04:36:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,536
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9702284
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tylerrjoseph/pseuds/tylerrjoseph
Summary: The soft cold against my skin was broken by a throbbing warmth. My scream resided at the back of my throat with shock and then nothing. Nothing I can remember.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I went to see Frank and realised how much I fuckin love him so I started this shit let's see if I ever finish it
> 
> not proofread at alllll

The silence around was like a cushion, the cold glided across the slightest skin I had exposed like soft velvet.

_Remembering you standing quiet in the rain,_ Robert Smith serenaded me through Sony Walkman headphones.

I watched the ground as the streetlights cast my shadows left, right and centre. Above me was a yellow tinted moon, not full but still was able to make my heart swell at the thought of my insignificance.

_Remembering you fallen into my arms, crying for the death of your heart._

The walk back to my apartment wasn't long but moments like these made me wish it was. It was late, desolate, calm. Manual remembrance of my safety made me glance around, pulling my hood half an inch so I could see behind me. No one.

_There was nothing in the world that I ever wanted more than to feel you feel in my heart_.

The sad reminder of my apartment, now in sight, and that this moment would end was interrupted by the enveloping of what I would learn to be claws. The soft cold against my skin was broken by a throbbing warmth. My scream resided at the back of my throat with shock and then nothing. Nothing I can remember.

I don't know how long I slept, if you could call it that. I didn't know where I was or how I got there. One thing I knew and was sure of, was pain. Everywhere. My lungs burned, I could have sworn my arms had been sliced open again and again, even my fingernails felt like they had been forcefully torn from my hands. My shallow gasps, unbeknownst to me as useless, must have been a signal that I was alive. Sort of.

Suddenly, a timid figure was above me. The pain coursing through every vein made it impossible for me to decipher any other features than a mop of hair and slight shoulders. It wasn't until I felt the pain somewhat subside that I realised I was being fed. It was warm and thick and I wanted every drop. I couldn't stop the childish whimpers that came from me when I could no longer taste what seemed like liquid metal on my tongue.

"Shh. Shh."

The mop of hair was covering my face now. I felt an elbow on my shoulder and tender hands trying to hug and pet my head. In the moment of need and loss, it felt loving. It made me want to reach out and hug back but the aches in my arms wouldn't allow me.

"You'll be okay," a voice which matched the timid build and soft hands.

The mop was now moving and I felt something against my face. And then I realised: kisses. The figure was planting small, reassuring kisses to the side of my face. The sounds coming from them made me aware that they were crying.

"You're safe," they sniffled.

I drifted in and out of consciousness. They were always close. Always touching. Whether they were lying with me, sobbing into my shoulder, or lovingly robbing circles onto my temples with their thumb.

The next time I woke, I ached but the torturous pain was gone. Flashes of my memory came back to me but it was hard to tell the difference between what could have been a dream and what was not. The empty grey-blue walls around me confirmed my fear that this was not my house. When I finally manoeuvred myself to sit up, I saw the furnished room around me. It was nice, clean, normal. The lights were on but the scene in the window informed me it was night.

Slowly, I twisted my hips until my bare feet touched the wooden floor. I had no shoes or socks and my hoodie was gone, but I was still in the jeans and shirt I put on the morning I could last remember.   
I leaned experimentally on one leg and then the other until I was sure I could stand. Almost instantly, the door in front of me opened and there stood the figure from what I thought were dreams.

"You're awake," he sang, sounding happy but strained, almost as if he just woke up. "I've been waiting so long."

My fear planted my ass back on the bed. I studied him in the few seconds of silence, deciding what features I would tell to the police. Tattoos. And lots of them. They painted his knuckles and neck and no doubt they were all over his arms and torso. Hair that fell just below his chin. Looking at it made me remember what it felt like covering my face. He was shorter than me, definitely taller than five foot but not as tall as I was.

He held out his hands and it took me a second to realise he was holding my Walkman.

"The tape is still in there. Disintegration, good taste." His friendly laugh made my jaw hang open. He noticed.

"This is weird, I know. But stop looking at me like that. I'm not some creepy kidnapper." His light-hearted tone terrified me beyond comprehension. It was his step forward that finally triggered my vocal reactions.

"Stay the _fuck_ away from me," I didn't focus on my voice long enough to hear how desperate I sounded. I was too preoccupied with pushing myself back, digging my heels into the bed to climb over it backwards.

"Gerard, don't run," his voice was calm but there was a hint of warning there too.

"How the fuck do you know my name?" I was hysterical at this point, trying to figure out if I should risk jumping through the window.

"You're too weak to jump from a third storey window. I'm trying to make you get better."

I wasn't given time to react before the stranger was suddenly on my side of the bed, Walkman still held out in front of him.

"You can leave, but you'll die." He paused for a second, looking somewhat regretful of his word choice. "What I mean is that you need me. You hurt all over, right?"

I nodded in response.

"I can help you. Heal you. Please let me," he begged.

I decided to make a run for it, over the bed and through the door. Once I reached the bed, my limbs went limp and again, pain surged through my body.

"Let me help you, Gerard." My name in his mouth made my teeth grind. "I can only help you if you let me, if you don't, you will die."

I thrashed against the bed, trying to pinpoint my thoughts. I'm in some creep's home. I could die if I trust him. I will die if this pain continues.   
I felt his hands on my wrists when real life came back into focus. I continued to thrash my head back and forth, soon realising the red stains on the fabric beneath me. My hands were covered in similar red liquid. I had been scratching the skin from my face. I looked up at the stranger's face which was too close to mine.

"Yes," I heard a guttural scream rip from my own throat. "Help me."


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I made a twilight joke but then I remembered this is set in the 80s/90s rip

The pain wasn't always constant after that. At one point I was even able to focus my thoughts for long enough to wonder, how was I going to the bathroom? Or eating? A quick pat confirmed I had not ruined my jeans and then moved up further to my stomach. No rumbling, no skinniness. I didn't feel hungry, just drained. A few minutes of extensive thinking were followed by what were probably hours of sleeping.

The stranger was always close, not always in the room but I knew he was close. Sometimes when I woke up he was lying next to me, touching my hair or my hands until I jerked away. Sometimes I could hear him cleaning. One morning when I opened my eyes, I saw him swivelling his hips and moving side to side with my Walkman in hand.

Another time I woke to find him looming above my body. This wasn't the first time, but it was the first time I ever seemed to notice his canines extending over his lips or his eyes completely white.  
The instant fear motivated whatever energy that was left in my body to allow me to dig the heels of my hands into my eyes and kick until I was against the headboard. When I opened my eyes he was still the same, irises and pupils gone and teeth of a wild animal. Somehow he still kept his timid expression.

"It's the last stage of the waxing moon," he gave as an explanation.

An idea flashed into my mind but I quickly disowned the thought, knowing it must have been ridiculous even when I was only inches away from his needle-like canines. He moved closer.

"Listen to your thoughts. They're right."

I breathed in, preparing something that I'm almost sure would have come out as a shriek, about how he didn't have a clue what I was thinking when he touched my hands which made me flinch. When I looked down I saw that our claw-like nails were the same. My hand shot up to my mouth. How had I not felt them before? Long, sharp, like ivory.

I heard myself laugh. "Is thi-" I paused, it was hard to talk with these in my mouth. "Is this some joke? Vamp -Vampires? Monsters?"

The stranger sighed.

"You're probably some monster fanatic," I continued laughing but I didn't know why. "Contact lenses, fake nails, fake teeth. You can buy them at any costume store. You're probably some sicko that kidnapped me for your - your sick fantasy."

He looked mad. I felt terrified but kept laughing. He moved even closer, sitting up on his knees, looming over me further. A short growl and his head was tucked into his arm but he kept his eyes on me (at least, I had to assume). Blood dripped onto my lap and the sheets under me. I stopped laughing.   
He twisted his wrist to face me, blood pouring from teeth-shaped gouges.

"You want to drink it."

I tried to laugh again but my body moved without my permission. I held his arm to my mouth, watching his face. Memories came flooding back and I knew this wasn't the first time I had done this.  
I felt disgusting in the pit of my stomach but the feeling of nourishment and, dare I say, enjoyment clouded it.

I was only able to indulge for a few more seconds before his wrist was being pulled away. I hadn't noticed but in the time I was enjoying my 'meal', he had placed his hand gently on the back of my head. He lowered himself to eye level with me. I couldn't imagine how I looked, mouth gaping open, covered in blood, wetness welling up in my eyes.

"Don't cry," he mumbled, soft now, and the small twitches of his eyelids let me know he was looking from one eye to another. "Tomorrow is a full moon - yes, that is actually true about us, it does affect us. I wish I had longer to prepare you but you took so long to heal."

My mind was still focused on: _Monster, blood, monster, I just drank blood, that wasn't the first time I drank blood, this can't be true, this is a lie, I think I want more blood_.

He seemed unhappy and gripped the hair on the back of my head tighter. "Listen to me. Your mind is so loud and going a mile a minute."

My next involuntary thought made him laugh a little: _Spend your whole life wishing people could understand what was going on in your head and the only one who does is some goth kid._

"It's a skill. You'll learn it too. Right now, please focus."

"Can I ask you a question?" It was the first time my entire time there that I had heard my voice like it truly was - no screaming, no hoarse croaking.   
He nodded.

"Did you do this-" I gestured to myself, "- did you do this to me?"

He paused. Nodded. Paused again.

"Sort of. I told you someone else did it - someone who doesn't like me. He tried to kill you. You would have died if I didn't turn you." His eyelids twitched again. He was searching my face for something.

"Wha- why?" It wasn't the question I wanted but it's the one that came out.

He furrowed his eyebrows. "I like humans," he said in a voice that meant 'no more questions'.

"But why me?"

"Easy prey," he sighed.

"What's your name?" I asked. "You know mine, tell me yours," I added after a moment of unsure silence.

"Frank."

"Frank," I repeated. _Franklin?_ The man only inches from me shook his head. _Only Frank, then. Shut up, Gerard, he can't actually read your mind._  
"What happens on a full moon, Frank? I turn into a bat and get chased by villagers with pitchforks?" I tried to joke.

"You'll have an extreme lust for blood. Lucky for you I have all that you need but your newborn vampire brain doesn't know that. I'll have to lock you up, probably."

My mouth, although still covered in blood, felt dry. "Lock me up? Will I have - taste - uh, drink? Will I drink your-?" I gestured to my wrists, not wanting to say the word.

"Sure, if you want to kill me," he laughed with little emotion. "You'll need a lot more than what you had tonight. I have some that I stole from the hospital. Don't worry I don't kill humans and I take the blood they have most of, so no one's missing out on anything. Oh, and don't ever try to drink from another one of us. It won't harm you but it won't be pleasant. It's different between us two because I turned you, we have a connection. Kind of like a pack."

I felt too calm. Nothing felt real. I would wake up soon, get up to make some coffee and leave for work. I'd listen to Smashing Pumpkins or some movie soundtrack on the bus. I'd trip over the threshold of the building like I do every morning because I drag my feet too much. I'd have dinner alone. I'd think about getting a cat. I'd watch porn and then feel bad about it. I'd go to sleep. I'd dream of more monsters and colourful characters with middle-class names and then I'd wake up and do it again.

"Can we see ourselves in the mirror?"   
Frank laughed at the untimely question and nodded.

"Can we turn into bats?"

"No, sorry."

"Do we explode in the sun?"

"Nope, hunting styles just make us more nocturnal."

The questions went on. I had my options: this was all a very vivid dream and I'd be safe in a few hours, this isn't a dream and this is some weirdo who I'll probably end up killing and I'll write a book about it, or it's all real. Whatever the case, what harm could asking questions make?


End file.
